


Collectible

by timespacethoughtcontinuum



Series: DaForge ABCs [3]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Episode: s03e22 The Most Toys, Established Relationship, M/M, Pre-EmotionChip!Data
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-11 02:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7024252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timespacethoughtcontinuum/pseuds/timespacethoughtcontinuum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set directly after Episode 03x22 The Most Toys. The conviction of Kivas Fajo does not go as smoothly as everyone would hope. Meanwhile, Geordi tries to process the fact that his best friend is still alive – but maybe not entirely the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Back From The Dead

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third installment of the series DaForge ABCs, but this should also stand fine on its own.  
> A note on the timeline: Advisable and Beneficial take place earlier in Season 3. Which means Data tries to date humans earlier than In Theory and has his cat earlier than Data's Day. Those should be the only anachronisms? Probably.  
> This story is also going to have a few chapters, and be much longer than the first two, and quite a bit more serious.

As soon as the turbolift doors opened Geordi was sprinting, rounding the circular corridor of Deck 6 so recklessly he narrowly avoided bowling over a few crewmembers, even _with_ the added benefit of being able to detect some of their electromagnetic signals through the walls. To be fair, though, he could hardly focus on _their_ light waves when there was something so much _brighter_ , someone so much more _important_ , who he could faintly see through the infrared-saturated walls of Transporter Room III.

His grip tightened slightly around the glass-like object in his hand as he picked up speed, just barely making it around the hall when the Transporter Room’s doors swished open and then, suddenly, he was face to face with the exact combination of electromagnetic radiation that had haunted both his sleeping and waking moments for the last two days.

“Geordi?” And with just that one word, spoken in that familiar voice and slightly unusual inflection, Geordi felt the tight coil of anxiety that had been with him since the explosion, loosen.

 _Data_.

Geordi had relied on his VISOR since he was five years old, used it for everything from work to convenience, and by now considered it a _part_ of him, pain and all. Considering both his choice in occupation and _romantic partner_ , he would be the last person to dismiss the _wonders of technology_. But, even so, something in Geordi’s nervous, biological brain needed to hear Data’s voice with his own two ears before he could relax - before he could really _believe_ his best friend was still alive.

Meanwhile, he’d been staring at Data, speechless, for a few seconds now. Long enough for Data to start looking at _him_ with concern. For the last two days all he could think about were all the things he never said to Data, all the things he would tell him if he could – and now that he finally had the chance it seemed like the entire language center of his brain had gone up in smoke.

“Data, I -” He began, trying to force the right words out, but when nothing particularly insightful or romantic came to mind he just gave up and said the words he meant, “ _Man, am I glad to see you again_.”

Behind Data, Geordi saw Commander Riker’s face light up in ill-concealed mirth, his face splitting into a wide grin that Geordi just _knew_ was straining to hold back the first officer’s laughter.

So it wasn’t his _best_ line. So what? The person it was meant for didn’t seem to notice or _care_ that the engineer didn’t have some sort of poetic, groundbreaking confession to deliver. Instead, Geordi watched the hesitant concern melt off Data’s expression to form the soft mix of _ease and expectation_ which, as far as Geordi had seen, the android only used with him.

“Thank you, Geordi.” Data inclined his head, a short and smooth motion, not really a nod but not quite a bow – his way of indicating gratitude. “I am glad to see you, as well.”

“ _Well_ ,” Riker cut in, grin still plastered across his face, his tone insinuating… _something_. Sometimes, Geordi felt fortunate that his VISOR obscured a good portion of his facial expressions, or he might’ve gotten a few reprimands for the sheer number of glares he’s directed at his superior officer.

“I’ve got to head down to the Brig; see how Mr. Worf is treating our new ‘ _guest’_.” Riker’s smile slipped slightly on ‘guest’ – Mr. Fajo was no one’s favorite person right now – but it was back up an instant later as the first officer gave Data a strong, brotherly pat on the arm, “I look forward to seeing you back on the Bridge, Mr. Data.”

“Aye, sir.” Data nodded, sharply, all professionalism. That was just like him.

Riker’s grin brightened and Geordi found himself smiling a little, too.

“Mr. La Forge,” The Commander said in acknowledgement, sly smirk firmly in place as he departed, his long strides carrying him around the corner and out of sight in just moments.

And then they were alone.

Not that their _aloneness_ did anything to help Geordi come up with a better idea about what he could be doing now that his best friend and _boyfriend_ was decidedly _not dead_.

 _Kissing_ was maybe the most obvious answer. It was probably what Riker had been expecting, and what he’d excused himself from once it became clear that _wasn’t_ going to happen with him around. A kiss right now was almost _thematically necessary_. Like the end of a romance holonovel, when the couple reunites after a series of tragic events keeping them apart and they embrace passionately, kissing…

Not that he _played_ romance holonovels. Well, not _many_. _But_ , he did know Data absorbed those things with the same studious intensity that Geordi typically saved for treatises on theoretical warp engines.

And _usually,_ when Data set his positronic brain to studying a particular behavior, he was able to replicate it within a .03% margin (or so Data claimed, though it often seemed like a _big_ .03% to Geordi).

So, why wasn’t he _currently_ being swept up into some impossible, back-straining position in Data’s arms while the android quoted dialogue straight from _Wagon Train To The Stars II_ by Rodney B. Gene (with or without musical accompaniment depending on the version)?

Well, that was because _nine_ days ago, after no less than _17_ such instances, Geordi had told Data the theatrics were making him a little _uncomfortable_. Not really the act itself, so much as the unusual _timing_ Data had (though, to his credit, he followed Starfleet’s PDA Policy to the letter).

Almost as soon as the words left his mouth he felt like taking them back. Maybe exchange them for something more tactful. As difficult as _Geordi_ found it to be romantic, he knew the role felt even _more_ unnatural to Data, and it seemed more and more like he was rebuffing all of Data’s attempts at it. But, the real problem was that Geordi had no way of knowing if Data’s over-the-top romantic overtures were genuine (if heavy-handed) displays of affection, or if Data was just trying not to _fail_ at this.

He supposed he could just _ask_ him, but, honestly, Geordi wasn’t great at this either. So, instead, he told his _boyfriend_ that _romantic displays_ made him _uncomfortable_.

_Smooth._

Data had apologized more sincerely than was at all necessary, and explained that he still hadn’t quite mastered the art of Spontaneous Romantic Gestures. He then immediately came up with the ‘solution’ that _Geordi_ initiate all romantic encounters, so Data could take note of the timing, until he felt he had a sufficient sample size of correct behavior to reinitialize that part of his romance subroutine.

When Geordi suggested that they try just _talking_ about what made each of them uncomfortable instead, Data replied with, quote: _‘But, I have never been uncomfortable around you, Geordi.’_

That shut him up. And not just because that wording was about as close as Data got to admitting he _could_ feel uncomfortable. No; somehow, knowing Data never felt that way around him made Geordi’s old self-consciousness flare up, as if his brain took that as permission to be _uncomfortable_ enough for the both of them.

So began what Geordi privately called The Great Kissing Drought.

It was just a lot of _pressure!_ Geordi wasn’t skilled at romance at the _best_ of times, and now that Data was purposefully taking his lead, he just couldn’t bring himself to follow through. He knew Data noticed (Data noticed way more than most people gave him credit for), yet still he continued to wait patiently for Geordi to figure himself out.

He remembered when he first began developing feelings for Data. He had thought, ‘Well, at least I don’t have to worry about feeling embarrassed and awkward around _this_ crush.’

He’d never been more wrong about anything in his life.

But, he couldn’t think about that now. He had spent two whole days thinking Data was dead and wishing he’d had another chance, and now that he was back he was _going_ to kiss him – no matter how unpracticed and anticlimactic it turned out to be. All he had to do was reach out and-

Remember he was still holding something in his right hand - the reason he’d been late meeting Data at the transporter pad, since he’d had to run to his room to get it.

“Oh,” _Look, a perfect excuse to chicken out_. His reaching motion changed purpose halfway through and he ended up just thrusting his hand toward Data, offering up the small crystalline trinket that sat in his palm. “ _Here_.”

It was a _hexagonal bifrustum,_ mostly translucent except for the thin holo-emitters embedded in the frame, distorting the EM waves Geordi saw through it in a way most people described as ‘sparkling’. Data took the object with an expression of surprise that Geordi happened to know was _both_ carefully manufactured and completely genuine.

“This is -”

“Yours,” Geordi finished without hesitation, mostly because it was true. “We sort of divvied up your stuff among your friends when we thought you were-”

He stopped, unwilling to spend one more second on that thought. “Anyway, I kept this one. I thought you’d want it back.”

Data, however, didn’t seem to be listening. He had activated the tiny holo-emitters, revealing the single holographic picture stored in the trinket’s memory.

Standing proudly in the center of the polyhedron, like her own crystal pedestal, was Tasha Yar.

Now Geordi had spent a good portion of the last two days staring at that image of Tasha, mourning both her and Data in turn, but _Data_ was staring at it with a strange intensity, almost _transfixed_.

It was a little concerning.

Data’s grip on the projector began to make the image flicker.

Scratch that - _very_ concerning.

“Data?” Geordi reached out to touch his friend’s hand. At the contact, Data blinked, his eyes refocusing as he turned to look at Geordi instead. Geordi’s VISOR wasn’t always great at picking up subtle facial expressions, but he swore, for a moment, Data looked _lost_.

“Geordi, I-”

 _“Bridge to Mr. Data,”_ The corridor’s side-panel chirped, instantly shattering the suddenly-tense atmosphere. Geordi was almost glad for the brief reprieve, though he also couldn’t help but wonder what Data wanted to tell him. What could have made Data look like that?

The android, back to peak professionalism, turned and tapped the panel’s communicator outlet, opening the channel. “Data here.”

 _“It is good to have you back, Commander,”_ The captain’s voice greeted him though the commlink – the third person in as many minutes to welcome Data back to the _Enterprise_. They would probably end up throwing the android a party before the day was done. _“Are you alright?”_

Typically, when asked this sort of question, Data would get a perplexed look on his face, check his internal sensors, and when he invariably found nothing _technically_ wrong with himself, would report that he was functioning normally and why-do-you-ask?

This time the android answered immediately, “I am fine, sir.”

Maybe Data was finally getting used to the indefinite nature of that question. Or had adapted his response algorithm again to better mimic human speech patterns. Maybe he’d run a diagnostic on himself recently and so could say with relative certainty that he _was_ fine.

 _Or…_ he knew that he _wasn’t_.

Geordi didn’t know where that thought came from – Data was the last person he’d ever expect to try _hiding_ anything, especially from the _captain_ – but now he couldn’t get it out of his head. He kept remembering that strange look on Data’s face.

Again, he wondered what Data had been about to tell him.

 _“I’m relieved.”_ The captain said, and Geordi knew it was true. Though he never said it, the loss of Data had affected Captain Picard almost as much as it had Geordi.

 _“We have already apprehended Mr. Fajo and have taken the freighter_ Jovis _into our custody. It seems you were not the only piece of his collection Mr. Fajo acquired illicitly.”_

“Indeed, sir.” Data confirmed, then in the next breath, “If I could, sir, I would like to see to the confiscation and return of those items.”

There was a pause then, and in his mind’s eye Geordi could see the captain glace over at Counselor Troi for advice. The problem was clear – Data had just been _abducted_. They still didn’t have a full picture of what had happened to him. Any other crewmember would be taken off duty for at least the next few days with mandatory counselling sessions until they were cleared for duty again.

But, this was _Data_ , and he was _asking_. Plus, Captain Picard had a sort of bias toward _literally_ working through one’s issues.

Evidently, Deanna also thought dismantling Fajo’s collection might be therapeutic in and of itself, because the next thing the captain said was, _“Very well, Mr. Data, you have the assignment. Report to Cargo Bay II, after you’ve logged your official account of this incident.”_

“Understood, sir.”

_“Picard out.”_

The commlink deactivated and Data once again turned his attention to Geordi. For a moment, the engineer thought the android was going to pick up where he had left off, and Geordi braced himself for whatever it was Data was going to say…

 “Are my quarters still vacant?”

“Uh,” That hadn’t been what he was expecting. It took him a moment to recover, “Yeah. Sure they are.”

Data nodded, thoughtfully. “I will need to replicate a replacement uniform.”

He was a little surprised to notice that Data wasn’t wearing his uniform – and a little embarrassed that it took him this long to notice, though that hadn’t exactly been his top concern upon seeing him again. Now that he was looking his VISOR could easily discern the grey and lavender jumpsuit’s different design and fabric elements – as well as something else he couldn’t quite identify.

He started mentally flipping through hertz frequencies, trying to figure out what he was looking at, and only belatedly realized that Data had started speaking again.

His VISOR shot up from the android’s chest back to eye-level. “Huh? What?”

“I asked: ‘Would you come with me, Geordi?’” Data repeated, patiently, “I would like your assistance with something.”

 _‘With something’._ Data was rarely that vague, and it made Geordi concerned all over again.

Even so, there was only one answer, “Yeah, of course, Data.”

* * *

Their walk to Data’s quarters was dead silent, broken only when they entered the turbolift and Data requested ‘Deck 8’. Geordi wasn’t sure what exactly made this silence different than any of the other countless times they had walked side-by-side without a word – without the _need_ for words – but it _was_ different. Those silences had been companionable; this silence just felt tense. Maybe it was because Geordi could see the brief electrical impulses flashing rapidly within the bright confines of Data’s positronic net, and, usually, when Data was thinking this hard about something he was also talking, sharing those thoughts with him as he tried to work out whatever solution was eluding him.

The holoemitter with Tasha’s image was still held tightly in the android’s hand.

They were already at the door by the time Geordi snapped out of his own thoughts long enough to realize what they were about to walk into. The door slid open on Data’s command, but before he entered the room he paused, staring through the doorway.

“Wes and I cleared it out last night,” Geordi’s words rushed out, partly in explanation for the bare space that lay before them, but mostly as a way to break that stifling silence, “Thought we’d get it over with.”

That felt like a feeble excuse, on Geordi’s part, for why he’d given up on Data so quickly. He knew it was silly – there hadn’t been any evidence in the beginning to cause them to suspect foul-play – but, when he saw Data come home to an empty room, he still felt a stab of guilt.

That pain lodged itself somewhere between his ribs, and he had to force himself to keep talking, trailing behind Data as he stepped fully into the room.

“Don’t worry; nothing was thrown out.” Data, he knew, wouldn’t actually be worried about that, but he had a strong urge to reassure him anyway, “Everyone’s looking forward to giving it all back. Well, except maybe Wes – you might have to _pry_ those medals off him.”

Data paused his inspection of his now empty quarters to turn and look at him with strange tilt to his head that Geordi interpreted as ‘confused and concerned’, “Have they become adhered to him?”

Geordi blinked behind his VISOR, confused for a second, and then he _realized_ and all at once his face lit up in a wide grin.

“I was _kidding_ , Data. He just _likes_ them.” The engineer laughed, his tone amused but not mocking. It really wasn’t so strange that Data took things literally at first, he’d even learned to expect it now, but if the expressions and jokes were explained to him, he usually caught on pretty quickly.

Data nodded - apparently satisfied that Wesley hadn’t, in fact, glued the medals to himself - and moved further into the room, and toward the individualized desk-panel that dominated a good portion of it. That, at least, hadn’t been removed yet.

Geordi, meanwhile, was still loitering by the entrance. It was silly really, since he’d been in Data’s room many times before, and Data often insisted that he was more than welcome – but Geordi still felt like he was intruding. He crossed his arms – for lack of anything better to do – and continued to talk about Wesley – for lack of anything better to say. “I think you shot up a few ranks on his personal list of heroes when he saw them.”

Data placed the holoimager that held Tasha’s image on the desk carefully, as if it would break. Geordi instantly felt gratified that he made the choice to pick up the device from his room before going to meet Data. It might have made him late, and Data had reacted a little strangely to seeing it at first – but at least he had something to put back in his room now. Something that was his.

“If he likes them, he is free to keep them.” Data said, offhandedly, still staring at the crystalline polyhedron on his desk.

“What?” Geordi asked, not following for a moment. He had to mentally replay the conversation a bit to realize that Data was still talking about Wes. He was probably worried that taking his medals back really _would_ upset the kid. The engineer shook his head; considering the fact that his organ-equivalent was made of cobalt-molybdenum alloys, Data could be incredibly _soft-hearted_. “I was _joking_ , Data. _Really_.”

But Data continued on as if he hadn’t spoken, the android’s tone a little too measured, “Full records of my achievements are stored in Starfleet’s historical database. The physical medals are unnecessary.”

That got Geordi moving, his arms dropping out of their fold as he made his way across the room to stand beside his friend, something burning deep in his chest.

“They’re _your_ medals, Data. I _know_ you like them.” He said, trying to get Data to look at him. It was true though – Data _did_ like those medals. He’d even _said_ so on a few occasions, not the least of which being when he was questioned about them while on trial. And even if he _hadn’t_ mentioned it, Geordi knew he liked them by how meticulously Data maintained them, and how they were the _only_ personal items Data brought onboard with him from his time on the _USS_ _Trieste._ “You should have them back.”

Data finally looked up, his yellow eyes focusing on Geordi’s VISOR, and Geordi’s VISOR, in turn, transmitting the flood of _brightness_ that made up Data’s expression directly into Geordi’s brain. It was beautiful, it always was, and it would have even been _worth_ the slightly-worse headache if Data’s expression had held anything other than quiet regret.

“I would only be keeping them for myself.” Data explained, quietly, as if that was some sort of _moral failing_. But, before Geordi could open his mouth to ask ‘ _so what’_ , Data pressed on, “Having recently been part of someone else’s collection, I find myself having… discrepant thoughts on that behavior.”

Man, he hated Kivas Fajo. And he hadn’t even _met_ the guy.

Of course, the last time he’d hated someone he had never met before it was Bruce Maddox, for much the same reason. He rubbed at his temple right above where his VISOR connected, and tried not to lose it over the fact that he even had to _say_ this: “Well, Data, _you’re_ not an _object_.”

His tone was more forceful than he’d meant, and he took a breath to level himself out, “Don’t you think _that_ accounts for any _discrepancy?_ ”

For a moment Data just stared at him, in a way Geordi might describe as ‘shocked’ if the android would allow it, but then he seemed to absorb the information, his golden eyes flicking down and then rapidly side-to-side the way he often did when he set that brilliant mind of his to solving some complex problem. It wasn’t that complex, Geordi wanted to say, but he knew Data needed to come to that conclusion on his own. So he stood and waited patiently for his friend to come to a decision.

Then, finally: “Yes.”

Golden eyes shot up to be level with his VISOR once again, still wide with revelation, “You are right, Geordi.”

He managed to keep from actually saying _‘of course I’m right’_ , though his body language would have given that thought away to just about anyone who _wasn’t_ Data. Instead, he watched as Data shifted, almost _sheepishly_ , in microscopic ways that might not have been noticed by anyone who _wasn’t_ Geordi.

The engineer grinned, knowing exactly what his boyfriend was going to say next.

“I suppose, then, I -will- take my medals back.”

Yep. Data _really_ liked those medals.

“I’ll break it to him easy.” Geordi said, patting the android on the back companionably. Then, before Data finished opening his mouth to worry about Wesley yet again, Geordi amended, “ _Kidding_. He’s going to be as thrilled as everybody else giving them back. They’ll _probably_ even throw you a party.”

Data’s head tilted to the side in curiosity and _skepticism_ , “Another ‘joke’?”

“No, I’m serious about that.” Geordi laughed, and when Data’s curious expression only intensified, he added, “You’ll see. It’s hard to explain.”

Data nodded, accepting that non-answer for what it was - a big ‘I don’t know’- and moved on toward his replicator. He swiftly typed in his code to access the officer’s section of the database. It could create a new uniform easily enough, but the new assigned commbadge and pips needed separate verification from the Bridge for security reasons.

As they waited, Data decided to continue the conversation, albeit in a different direction, “You said my possessions were ‘divvied up’ among my friends. I know which items you and Wesley received. To whom did you bestow the others?”

Geordi leaned against Data’s desk comfortably, listing the names off on his fingers, “Well, the captain got your Shakespeare collection back. Riker has your poker chips. Dr. Crusher is looking after your plants.” He smirked a little, teasingly, “Deanna has that painting of yours displayed in her room.”

Data’s head whipped around to look at him, eyes wide. Geordi knew he’d get a reaction at that.

“Hey, she really liked it, I _swear!_ ” He held his hands up, in appeasement. It was true, she loved it, but Geordi suspected that if he told him the Counselor had actually started to cry when he offered it to her, Data would get the wrong idea.

That little tinge of skepticism entered the android’s expression again, but he turned his attention back to the replicator as the approval came through.

“And Spot?”

Geordi smiled, amazed it had even taken Data _this_ long to mention the orange tabby.

“Worf.” He answered easily, and at the strange look he received, explained, “She gets along better with him than she does with me.”

Honestly, he was beginning to think that cat had it out for him.

“Intriguing.” Data replied, a note of real interest in his tone. He left the uniform in the replicator for a moment and approached his desk again, reaching underneath it to withdraw the tricorder stored there.

“I have never before considered writing a will.” Data continued, opening the tricorder and tapping out some parameters that Geordi couldn’t quite decipher through the device’s internal workings. “However, I think you did a commendable job extrapolating my wishes.”

“Well, I-” Geordi began, not entirely sure what he was going to say to that – _‘I just know you well’_ sounded a bit arrogant – but, he was saved from having to figure it out by a loud _riiiip_.

He glanced over in time to see Data finish tearing the upper-section of the jumpsuit he was wearing down the middle. The action was surprisingly _vicious_ for Data – who had before been hesitant to tear _wrapping paper_. He stared for a moment, uncomprehending, before he realized that Data wasn’t _wearing anything_ underneath that jumpsuit, and though the bottom half of the suit was still intact, the structural instability caused by the tear in the upper half was causing it to fall dangerously low…

Geordi whipped his head around, face hot, trying a little too frantically to find someplace else to look. He knew he was being ridiculous. It wasn’t like his VISOR couldn’t _see through clothes_ – or that his ‘seeing’ was anything but a spectrum of electromagnetic waves crushed on top of each other and shoved directly into his cerebral cortex.

Also, they were _dating_. So, it really shouldn’t be a problem.

Despite all reasoning, however, Geordi kept his VISOR pointed intently at the room’s outer wall, where it busily began picking up the faint EM signatures of a couple of officers walking out in the corridor.

After a moment of nothing but the faint rustling of fabric and the distinct beep of the tricorder, Geordi ventured, “Uhm, _Data?_ _What_ are you doing?”

“I am scanning my outer-dermal layer for traces of Finoplak,” was Data’s slightly distracted reply.

“Finoplak?” He parroted, confused. He’d never heard of it.

“It is a corrosive liquid capable of dissolving synthetic fabrics,” Data explained. Geordi could hear him tapping at the tricorder again, readjusting the parameters. “Kivas Fajo used the substance to remove my uniform.”

There was a beat, a moment where Geordi had to replay what Data had just said so calmly back again in his mind just to verify that he heard correctly, and then:

“He _what?_ ”

Just then the tricorder beeped in confirmation, and instead of responding to the sudden venom in Geordi’s voice, Data checked the results of the scan, “I am reading trace amounts of an unidentified chemical still present. I will need to remove it.”

Geordi couldn’t help it anymore; he turned around and watched as Data placed his tricorder back in its appropriate location, then return to the replicator to pick up his new attire. He was still watching when Data turned back to glance at him, a slight frown on his face that Geordi usually interpreted as ‘apologetic’, “I will only be a moment.”

“Yeah…” Geordi replied softly, and Data nodded before heading into his quarters’ adjoined restroom, which Geordi knew was typically useless to the android. “Take your time.”

He could see Data moving around through the door – more clearly than he had the officers in the corridor simply because Data was so _bright –_ but he had looked away again by the time Data began to rip through the rest of those clothes. Geordi sat down in one of the chairs in front of Data’s desk and rested his hands on the polished metal surface. He closed his eyes, and wished that doing so would _actually_ shut out the light the way it would if he had actual functioning eyes.

But even with his eyes closed, his VISOR picked up the heat signatures in his hands, watched them as they curled into fists on top of Data’s desk. The information – from his hands, from the desk, from the tricorder _under_ the desk, the _holoimager_ – poured into his brain relentlessly, until the engineer sighed roughly and reached up to remove his VISOR from the cranial implants that allowed it to work.

Then it was dark. The pain his implants caused him faded to the back of his mind as he set his VISOR down on the desk with a metallic _clink_ and pushed the heels of his palms into his unobstructed sockets.

What had _happened_ to Data back there? He hadn’t actually thought about it much. Everything seemed to happen so quickly – Data’s ‘death’ had been so real, and then suddenly it wasn’t and they were flying back at full warp, searching for him. And then they’d found him just an hour or so after that. There hadn’t been any time to ponder what might have happened to Data in the 24 hours he was missing.

Data always claimed to be incapable of emotions – something Geordi wasn’t so sure about, though he never brought it up simply because he thought it would be rude to claim he knew Data better than Data knew himself. Even if sometimes Geordi thought that was true – and vice versa.

But Data was _built_ for learning – his positronic net was continuously expanding itself as Data broadened his experiences, allowing him to adapt and modify his behavior. With that in mind, it wasn’t much of a stretch to think that, given a traumatic enough experience, Data could be seriously _hurt_.

Just the thought of it made Geordi sick.

Frustrated, he let his hands fall heavily back down to the hard metal surface. There’s a slight rattling sound – then the light click-clack of something rolling…

He reached out a hand toward the sound, half expecting to miss completely, and caught the object before it could finish it’s journey off the edge of the desk. Once it was in his hand he could tell just from the shape it was the holoimager. Tasha’s image.

He remembered wishing he had an image of Data to keep with him, and then thinking he probably wouldn’t be able to look at it.

Geordi drew the object toward himself, rolling it between both hands. He had spent quite a bit of time doing this in his own quarters, when he wasn’t staring at the image itself and thinking about the friends he’d lost. He’d had a crush on Tasha basically from the moment he saw her when he first boarded the _Enterprise_. His crush on Data came later – and far more stealthily – sneaking up on him after too many long nights talking with the android about nothing in particular.

They had both been the type of deep-seated crushes that he never planned to act on. Too much risk in rejection. But then it was too late with Tasha, and then, after only four months had passed since he decided to grow up and just ask Data out, it had almost been too late again.

He decided he couldn’t let himself waste any more time. Life was too short for things like Kissing Droughts.

The soft hum of the sonic shower that Geordi could faintly hear through the door lowered in pitch until it stopped and Geordi carefully set the device down in roughly the same place he remembered it being.

Data really didn’t take very long dressing, and just a few minutes later Geordi was hastily reaching for his VISOR as the restroom’s automatic doors _swished_ open. With a slight flicker, Geordi’s mind was filled with light once again.

And the first thing he saw was his boyfriend stepping into the room, back in full uniform now, still adjusting the pips clipped to his collar – two gold, one black. Something in Data’s body language had changed as well – just slightly enough that Geordi couldn’t quite place the difference, but he seemed less _rigid_ now. More at ease. More _himself_.

Geordi smiled at him, relieved for the moment, and called out, “Hey, _looking good_.”

Data stopped fidgeting with his pips and looked at Geordi curiously, then, carefully, he backed a few steps into the restroom again and tilted his upper body backwards – presumably to look in the mirror.

Geordi took a deep breath and kept from laughing as Data reemerged, still perplexed, and reported, “My appearance has not changed.”

Geordi’s smile grew a little wider, “Well, then, I guess that means you _always_ look good.”

 _That_ finally got it through to Data that he was being complimented. Geordi watched as his eyes widened slightly, mouth curving into a small smile – pleased. As difficult as it was sometimes to get a compliment through to Data, it was more than worth it.

“Thank you, Geordi.” Data said, his cadence just a bit quicker than normal – a bit more happy, if Data would accept the term. The android tilted his head again, his body leaning slightly forward – playfully, as if he was about to disclose some great secret, “You are -also- aesthetically pleasing on a consistent basis.”

Geordi covered his mouth with his palm, _physically_ holding back his laughter, “ _Thanks_ , Data.”

Data nodded and straightened, apparently satisfied that his reciprocation was well received. Then he made his way behind his desk and sat in his chair, expertly turning on the highly specialized panels that were built within the desk. The entire thing flickered to life, its light brightening considerably in Geordi’s mind. Even the panels placed in the back walls flared to life, depicting the blueprints of the _Enterprise_.

The engineer watched as Data used the panel to access the _Enterprise’s_ system-diagnostic capabilities, and he realized where this was going before the android even spoke. Thoughts of ending the Kissing Drought anytime soon were shifted to the backburner as Geordi leaned across the desk to get a better look at the test Data was setting up.

“I guess you didn’t ask me up here just to tell you how good you look in your uniform, huh?”

“… No,” Data glanced up from his panel – he sounded like he regretted that was the case even more than Geordi did. Once he had finished accessing the appropriate systems, Data opened a compartment in his desk, and pulled out a thick cord, which Geordi knew would allow Data to directly link his positronic net to the _Enterprise’s_ computer. He offered the cord to Geordi, “I would like you to run a Level 3 Diagnostic on all of my major processes – particularly, those dedicated to regulating behavior.”

Geordi didn’t reach for the cord, instead he looked at Data seriously, “You think there’s something wrong.”

It hadn’t been a question, but Data answered anyway: “No.”

To say Geordi was surprised was an understatement, and he waited anxiously for Data to explain.

“My internal sensors have revealed no signs of intrusion. However,” Data paused, seemingly working on what words to use which would best express his concerns. “During my abduction, I was rendered unconscious for approximately 1.26 hours. So, I cannot rule out the -possibility- that my sensors have been tampered with.”

Data looked a little disturbed by the prospect, and Geordi couldn’t blame him. He couldn’t imagine what that must feel like…

“Considering the -nature- of my captor, I would ‘ _rather be safe than sorry’_.” Data finished, a slightly unsteady inflection on the idiom. He’d used it _perfectly_ , but Geordi was too caught up in worry to praise him with anything more than a slight nod.

“Yeah, for sure…” He said, only half-consciously, but he soon snapped himself out of it. He was of no use to Data just moping about like that, and at least with this there was something he could _do_.

“Alright, leave it to me.” He said, taking the offered cord and rounding the desk to stand by Data’s side. The android reached into his hair and carefully removed the outer-casing that concealed some of his inner workings – and, more importantly, his access port. With the self-assurance of having done this many times before and with many different mechanisms, Geordi linked up Data’s brain to the _Enterprise’s_ computer, and tapped out his engineering security code to begin the diagnosis.

“Don’t worry, Data. If there’s anything wrong with your systems, I’ll find it.”

_And I’ll fix it._

* * *

That was easier said than done. An hour later and there was nothing to show for it.

He supposed that should be a good sign – maybe Data was right and _nothing_ was wrong.

But the lack of something physical he could fix was driving Geordi up the wall with anxiety. It didn’t help that Data had decided to use this time where he was otherwise immobile to verbally relay his incident report to the computer. Data was very precise in his reports, and had spent the better part of that hour detailing the entirely of his captivity, from his incapacitation in the shuttlecraft to being beamed up by the _Enterprise_ – and all the sickening mess in between.

If he hadn’t already hated Kivas Fajo, he sure would _now_.

Honestly, _Geordi_ found it hard to believe that scumbag hadn’t tried to rewrite Data’s programming. Which was what made finding _nothing_ so _nerve-wracking_.

“I’m not seeing anything that looks _strange_ here, Data.” He finally admitted after he completed his triple-check. “But, I’m not a _cyberneticist_ either. I might not have the qualifications to _really_ …”

“Geordi,” Data’s voice was direct, cutting into his nervous rambling very efficiently. He could see Data looking at him through the corner of his eye, his head turned just slightly, though Data had otherwise remained perfectly still during his examination.

“I would not have asked you to assist me with this if you were not qualified.” The android said evenly, leaving no room for doubt in his logic, “I trust you.”

Geordi wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse, but it did make something do an impressive flip in his stomach.

The engineer sighed, hands falling from his hips down to his sides, “Then… I don’t _see_ anything, Data. If there’s something in particular that feels _off_ , I could probably get the resources to do a more extensive test, but that’d put you out of commission for at least 3 hours...”

“And I am scheduled to be in the Cargo Bay shortly.” Data finished, his posture still as a statue. “I believe that scan was sufficient. Thank you, Geordi.”

Geordi let out another long breath, but quickly disengaged Data’s systems from the _Enterprise_ and removed the cable from his friend’s brain. “Anytime, buddy.”

Free from the cord, Data became animated once again. He shut the hair-covered casing over his port and stood, turning to face Geordi fully.

“I will see you after my shift?”

Geordi looked up into his boyfriend’s eyes – their expression almost _hopeful_ – and smiled, despite the deep unease he still felt.

“Yeah, of course, Data,” He said, and then, because he really couldn’t force himself to put it off any longer, leaned up to give Data a short, sweet kiss. He was already pulling away when he noticed Data’s hands reaching for him – and then dropping, when it seemed like they’d missed their chance.

Yep, anticlimactic. Geordi was terrible at this. He thought about trying again (maybe if he did it quickly enough, Data wouldn’t really notice the awkwardness), but by then Data had already given a polite nod and was making his way toward the exit.

“Goodbye, Geordi,” Data said in parting once he’d made it to the door.

“See ya, Data,” Geordi replied, giving a small wave. “Good luck sorting through all that… _stuff_.”

Data accepted the luck with a serious dip of his head, and then quickly exited the room, the door swishing shut behind him.

And then Geordi was left alone. In Data’s room.

Geordi sighed. Data never had any problem leaving with him still in here. In a way it was kind of sweet – Geordi knew Data wanted him to feel ‘at home’, and leaving Geordi here on his own was maybe Data’s way of indicating that. But, on these occasions, Geordi couldn’t help but feel like he was Data’s second _cat_.

He glanced around the still mostly empty room, thinking about what he should do now. His shift was long over – he could go back to his room. Maybe hang out in Ten Forward.

Or he could do what he _really_ wanted to do and trail helplessly after Data until he was sure his best friend was _really_ okay.

So more like a _dog_ than a _cat_.

He spent another few seconds futilely fighting the inevitable, and then let out a deep self-deprecating groan and tapped his communicator, “Ughh – _La Forge to Bridge_.”

_“Bridge here. What can I do for you, Commander?”_

Riker. _Of course_ , Riker had made it back to the Bridge already.

Well, there was no backing out now.

“I’d like to take an engineering team down to access the _Jovis’_ memory banks. See if there’s any more dirt we can dig up on this guy before tomorrow.” He said, hoping the Commander had read through at least _part_ of Data’s incident report and wouldn’t question any desire to see that dirtbag rot behind bars.

 _“I thought your shift already ended?”_ Naturally, Riker _couldn’t_ let this be easy.

“Yes, sir. It did. I just…” _Wanted to go be overprotective of my boyfriend?_ Was that what he wanted him to say? It wasn’t so unreasonable. Only a few hours ago he thought Data was _dead_ , and now he’d just sat through a first-hand account of his best friend being kept as some asshole’s _trophy_ , and…

 _“It’s a good idea.”_ The Commander’s voice broke him out of whatever state he was riling himself into. _“Any information you can get can only help the case against Fajo.”_

Geordi blinked, surprised that Riker had relented. Maybe it could be that easy. “Thank you, sir.”

He moved to disconnect the channel, but before he could finish lifting his hand, Riker continued,

 _“And, Mr. La Forge, when you see_ Data _down there_ ,” Geordi could almost hear the teasing smirk in his voice. He’d known Riker too long not to be able to picture it perfectly, _“Let him know I’ll be expecting him to report to Ten Forward at 2300 for his Welcome Back party.”_

_Called it._

He was suddenly very glad he had voiced his prediction to Data earlier. The android was going to think he was _psychic_.

 _“Make sure he knows it’s_ not _a request.”_

“Yes, sir,” Geordi rolled his eyes behind his VISOR, in the way he sometimes did even when Riker was physically in the room, if only because he knew he could get away with it.

_“Riker out.”_

The channel disconnected from Riker’s end and Geordi shook his head. He’d been in the same class as Riker back at the Academy, and they had both spent some time onboard the _USS Hood_ right before they were dropped off at Farpoint Station, to be picked up by the _Enterprise_. Despite that, sometimes it seemed like the only thing they had in common was an affection for Data.

This must be what having a brother-in-law felt like.

Steeling himself for yet another long night, Geordi marched out of the room and down the corridor toward the turbolift, intent on trailing helplessly after Data for a good while yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've decided that the DaForge ABC series is going to at least trail on from A to Z - which means 26 stories total. I have those at least marginally planned out already, but I may add more, so I welcome any suggestions or input. As you can see from this story, they won't all be oneshots, but most of them will be.  
> Please feel free to leave a comment if you liked it any! It takes a lot more effort to finish the chaptered fics than the oneshots, so I could use the encouragement. ^^


	2. It's Not Your Fault

When Geordi arrived with his small contingent of system engineers, the Cargo Bay looked more like a bizarre museum than a storage compartment. Items of various shapes, sizes, and origins were lined up and down the bay in some semblance of order Geordi wasn’t able to decipher. Adding to this effect was the security detail lingering along the outer walls, their expressions a mix of suspicion and bafflement, as a squad of science officers buzzed around with their PADDs and tricorders, chatting amongst themselves in hushed, excited tones.

Standing in the midst of the latter group, like a golden island in an ocean of blue, was Data.

He had kind of hoped Data would be _on_ the freighter – since that’s where Geordi was headed now – but he could also understand why Data would be reluctant to go back there. He couldn’t blame him.

The android was rapidly sifting through the Federation’s historical database on his PADD, while simultaneously cataloging and marking nearby objects with electronic identification tags, and directing the science officers in how to do the same. As Geordi and his crew moved further into the bay, however, Data’s activity stopped and he glanced up, almost as if he had sensed Geordi’s presence.

“Geordi?” Data questioned (and Geordi could still feel that soft _relief_ whenever Data said his name).  He seemed like he was about to ask something along the lines of ‘ _what are you doing here’_ , but Geordi beat him to it,

“We’re gonna take a look at the _Jovis’_ systems and records. See if we can’t find anything _interesting_ ,” He motioned to the three engineers who had come with him to go on ahead to the transporter pad, while he remained behind to experience Data’s ‘disapproving-face’.

It was an expression that was very unsure of itself – slight tightening of the lips, a not-quite frown – Data didn’t use it often, but Geordi had seen it before and thus had no trouble deciphering it.

He rolled his eyes behind the shield of his VISOR. He was about to get _scolded_. Wonderful.

“I would have checked the _Jovis’_ systems -myself- after my current task was complete.” Data’s words were a little sharp – and it was true, _systems_ were more _Data’s_ specialty than Geordi’s – but Geordi knew that his friend was just puzzled over why he was down _here_ and not taking the ‘recommended amount of downtime required to sustain human health’.

Which he _had_ been, thank you very much.

 _‘For my own peace of mind’_ , would have been the true answer – but, he knew that would just confuse and worry the android further, so instead he just shrugged and said, “Yeah, well, I bet _I’ll_ get to it _first_.”

Data blinked, the puzzled expression still not leaving his face, but he did seem to accept that statement as fact. “I believe that would be… ‘a safe bet’?”

There was that slight upward inflection at the end of the idiom, testing it out. Geordi grinned in response, smile wide and full of praise, “You’ve got it.”

Data nodded, pleased at his success, and Geordi could just barely detect a smile creeping into his friend’s expression, before the android promptly reverted back to his ‘disapproving-face’.

“Even so, I am capable of completing both these tasks well before the _Enterprise_ is scheduled to arrive at _Lya Station Alpha_ at 0700 hours tomorrow. Therefore, I do not see the necessity of assigning you the additional shift.”

It figures that Data would be worrying over him even at a time like this. Geordi thought about telling his best friend that if _anyone_ needed to take the night off it was _the guy who was just abducted_ – but, he wasn’t really ready for _that_ argument, and he had a better excuse, “Actually, your timeline’s been moved up. To 2300.”

Data blinked, seeming almost alarmed by this, “Have we increased speed?”

“ _No_ ,” Geordi said hastily, “No - it’s the _party_ I warned you about.”

He was immediately rewarded with Data’s ‘surprised-face’ – eyes wider, lips slightly parted. It seemed Data really _had_ thought he was joking about that. He could already see about a dozen questions forming in the android’s brain, but he held up his hand to keep them from spilling out, “Don’t ask _me_ – it’s _First Officer’s_ orders.”

Data seemed to take this as an answer all itself, and he considered this information for a moment before concluding, “I will need to expedite my progress…”

“You and me both, buddy,” Geordi patted his friend on the back, and then quickly headed off in the direction his engineers went, calling over his shoulder, “Good luck!”

“Good luck, Geordi,” He heard Data call back, apparently relenting, before they both returned to their work.

Having got out of _that_ relatively unscathed, Geordi made his way to the back of the room. The far side of the Cargo Bay was lined with pattern buffers – a make-shift transporter pad to accommodate the sheer volume of material they had to confiscate. Data’s report had only included the details of the room he was kept in, but it seemed _that_ room had only been dedicated to Fajo’s _most_ _valuable_ ‘possessions’. The _Enterprise_ crew had found several rooms of the same nature spanning throughout the ship, full of rare (and likely stolen) objects. And that wasn’t even including the freighter’s _cargo_.

Currently, the _Jovis_ was being towed along in a tractor beam, its control systems offline to prevent any of the crew from trying to escape – or _hide_. Apparently, someone had triggered the ship’s security system after Data and Fajo had been beamed onboard the _Enterprise_ , and they had trouble locking on to the rest of the crew’s signals. It had taken a security team nearly an hour to track them down while the ship’s systems were still online – the unusual technology Data reported proving to be just as difficult for the _Enterprise_ crew to manage as it had been for the android.

But, by the time Geordi beamed onto the _Jovis_ the situation had been resolved. Three Zibalian crewmembers were lined up to one side of the transporter pad, being glowered at by an irritated-looking Worf.

One of them – a woman with long, thick hair – was even doing a fair job at glowering back.

Geordi hopped off of the pad and made his way to the nearest computer terminal. His engineers had already started the system reboot, and the computer was slowly coming back online. He used the downtime to sneak a peek over at the _Jovis_ crew, angling his VISOR in a way that he _hoped_ wasn’t obvious. Lieutenant Worf was explaining what would happen to the group as calmly as possible, though his growling tone betrayed his very tightly reigned anger,

“You will be assigned guest quarters onboard the _Enterprise_ , where you will remain until we arrive at Starbase _Lya Alpha_. _There_ you will be handed over to Federation authorities for _questioning_.”

“What for?” The long-haired Zibalian asked, chin up to look the considerably larger Mr. Worf in the eye, “We have committed no crime.”

 _“ **You** are an accessory to **multiple** crimes.”_ Worf fumed, his voice more like a roar than anything else. His temper only seemed to rise when the Zibalian woman refused to back down, though the two other crewmembers visibly shrank away.

“We have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replied evenly, defiantly, drawing out another barely-contained growl from the lieutenant.

“That remains to be seen,” Worf hissed, the suspicion clear in his voice. The _Jovis_ crew wouldn’t have gotten much sympathy from the Klingon at the best of times – _certainly_ not after kidnapping Data, whom even _Worf_ had a fondness for.

Brother-in-law #2. Geordi thought he should start making a list.

“Regardless,” Worf continued, his voice lower, and slightly more predatory, “Starfleet protocol allows for the _detainment_ of any space-faring vessel, or _individuals,_ _suspected_ of violating Federation law in Federation space, until they can be formally charged.”

Worf bared his teeth, “ _So_ , you may either spend the next 12 hours in the quarters _assigned_ , or you may spend it _in the Brig._ ”

That rather elegant citation booked no argument, and it seemed even the _Jovis_ crew's temporary leader was forced to back down. The three Zibalians were marched onto the pad with Worf and another security officer and a few seconds later they were energized and beamed back to the Cargo Bay.  
  
Geordi, meanwhile, had been so preoccupied with eavesdropping that he almost didn’t notice when the computer’s systems came back online – and immediately locked him out.  
  
“What the-?” The system seemed to require a very complex code. Geordi tried to bypass the lockout by going through some minor functions  - like the crew roster, or maintenance records – but it seemed that every aspect of the system was keyed to respond only to certain DNA patterns.

“Well, someone’s a little defensive,” He muttered to the computer, though he hoped he could pass it off as a statement in general.

The engineer closest to him, Ensign Alvarado, didn’t seem to care about the eccentricity; she reported the same problem affecting all independent networks on the ship.

“We could ask security to get a DNA sample from Fajo or one of the other crewmembers,” she suggested.

“Yeah. I guess that’s our best option.” Otherwise they’d be here all night. Data wasn’t kidding when he described how intricate the Zibalian’s defense systems were. “Though it’s not exactly the easiest thing to ask for.”

It might be something better to request in person, rather than over comm. Geordi didn’t want to give the impression that he was pushing all the legwork off on the lieutenant.

Plus, it gave him an excuse to go back to the Cargo Bay.

“ _I’ll_ go,” Geordi said with that in mind. Alvarado let out a soft sigh of relief, having been seconds from timidly volunteering herself – a brave act considering they all saw what sort of mood Lieutenant Worf was in. The Chief Engineer gave her a rueful smile. It wasn’t like there was anything else he could do _here_.

“In the meantime, start with the hardware. Check to see if any traces of their visit to the _Beta Agni_ system are still left in their engines,” He pointed toward Alvarado, leaving her in charge in his absence, as he stepped away from the computer terminal and hopped back onto the transporter pad.  
  
“And _find out_ where they could have held 80 kilos of tricyanate,” He added, tapping once on his communicator, _“La Forge to Cargo Bay II - one to beam out.”_

His VISOR caught the first microsecond of converted light, as his atoms were energized and his pattern was scanned and sent quicker than light through subspace and into the pattern buffers. Then, his atoms were _re_ created, taking on physical form perfectly, and it seemed like only another microsecond had passed before he was once again standing in the _Enterprise’_ Cargo Bay.

_“This is your fault.”_

Just in time for trouble. Trouble which, of course, had Data front and center.

The voice, which had echoed loud and bitterly clear through the bay, belonged to none other than the Zibalian woman who had glared at Worf on the _Jovis_ just minutes ago. She, as well as the two other crewmembers and their Security escort, were on the other side of the Bay, on their way to the exit, but the distance didn’t stop Geordi’s VISOR from picking up her expression. While she had seemed cool and defiant on the _Jovis_ , this time every line on her face read _hatred_ , and all of that hatred was directed at Data.

Data who was a few meters away from her, seemingly frozen in the act of scanning another one of Kivas Fajo’s odd trinkets. His entire body still.

The Zibalian wasn’t done yet, however, and she pulled sharply away from the officer trying to lead her toward the exit, her voice acid. “ _None_ of this would have happened if it weren’t for _you_.”

Everyone in the Cargo Bay was looking at them now. Lieutenant Worf was already advancing on the woman, rage clear on his face – but then Data stood, his entire body unfolding itself with pure mechanical efficiency that didn’t bother with the usual attempts to feign muscle movement or effort.

A glance from the Second Officer caused the Security Chief to back down slightly, though he still stood nearby, watching the scene with ill-concealed agitation. Data, meanwhile, had taken a few steps toward the group, eyes on the Zibalian woman.

“My condolences for the loss of your crewmate.”

Data’s voice was low and respectful – if it hadn’t been otherwise deathly quiet in the Cargo Bay, Geordi might not have even heard him. To Geordi it suddenly became very obvious what was bothering Data – maybe even why he’d reacted so strongly to seeing Tasha’s image again.

He felt responsible for the death of Kivas Fajo’s assistant, Varria.

To Geordi, _regret_ was written in every line and form of light that the Engineer perceived Data to be.

But, apparently, that wasn’t evident to everyone.

The Zibalian woman snarled and lunged at Data – only to be brought up short by Lieutenant Worf’s quick reflexes.

 ** _“Enough!”_** The Klingon roared, pulling her back by the arm and toward two security officers, “Take her to the Brig-”

“That will not be necessary, Lieutenant.” Data clipped the end of Worf’s order, tone even. He hadn’t flinched, and his eyes remained locked with the woman’s. “I believe I ‘spoke out of turn’.”

Data pronounced each word of the phrase with unneeded emphasis, but was otherwise on the mark. No one around was much in the mood for giving positive feedback, however.

“ _Sir?”_ Worf stared at Data with a mix of pure incredulity and slight betrayal.

Data didn’t offer any other explanation, however, and instead dipped his head in contrition towards the woman. “My apologies.”

Seeing Data apologize like that rankled – as far as Geordi was concerned, there wasn’t anything Data needed to apologize _for_. Especially not to someone from the same crew who had tried to make him into a _display item_.

It didn’t seem like Geordi’s opinion on the matter was going to change anytime soon either. The Zibalian woman curled her lip, looking down on Data with contempt.

“Is that all you can say, _android?_ ” She snapped derisively, “Your ‘ _apologies’?_ ”

Data straightened, his head coming up to look levelly at the woman again, his face expressionless.

“No,” he answered flatly, apparently done attempting to appease her. He glanced briefly toward the other two Zibalians, a younger man and woman, who were trying very hard to seem invisible behind another Starfleet officer – and then his eyes shifted back to the Security Chief.

“There are at least two male crewmembers absent from this group. I speculate they are still on board the _Jovis_.”

Worf – who’s demeanor was still slightly petulant from being denied before – seemed to jump almost instantaneously from surprise to action, pointing to the security officers nearest the transporter, who had heard that revelation just as clearly as Geordi had, and growling, “ _Find them_.”

The lieutenant handed the Zibalian woman – her expression still shell-shocked – to the closest security officer and ordered tersely, “Take our _guests_ to their rooms,” before making his way to the transporter himself in quick, powerful strides.

Soon, Geordi was completely surrounded by security officers, who were gathered within the pattern buffers, which Geordi had yet to vacate. When Lieutenant Worf stepped in as well, and gave him a questioning look, Geordi answered unsteadily, “I’ll look too.”

It’s not what he wanted to say. He _wanted_ to step right off the pad and head over to Data, to make sure he was okay after all that. But, if there were still members of the _Jovis_ crew on the freighter – ones they hadn’t been able to pick up on their scans even when the smaller ship was _offline_ – he knew they were going to need him back there.

Honestly, Data probably wouldn’t even _accept_ comforting when there was work like that to be done.

But, there wasn’t much time to brood on that, Worf was in a hurry, “ _Energize_.”

In the microsecond it took before his VISOR flooded his mind with light as his atoms dematerialized, Geordi thought he saw Data look his way. He tried to read his friend’s expression, but his stomach dropped when he realized he couldn’t. Data’s face was completely blank.

* * *

As it turned out his presence was critical in finding the fugitive Zibalians. Or at least his VISOR was. A great portion of the _Jovis_ was cargo space - which made sense for a freighter - with large empty expanses of storage room. Scanning these spaces with their computer had revealed nothing too out of the ordinary, but when Geordi had walked into the room he immediately noticed something off.

Particularly the _dimensions_ were off. The storage bay was too small. He’d gotten so used to having to translate his VISOR’s readings into something that passed for depth-perception that he’d forgotten that most people wouldn’t notice if a 12 meter high ceiling was actually only _11_ meters.

He checked the floor first, his VISOR easily identifying the usual circuits and wires running through the frame of a starship, and then he checked the ceiling - and saw nothing. _Conspicuously_ nothing.

As it turns out there was a smuggler’s hole. _Of course_ there was a smuggler’s hole.

The area around it was using an _EM distortion field_ – almost a primitive cloaking-device. It disrupted the electromagnetic spectrum, which made it appear _invisible_ to most people and sensors – but to _Geordi_ , who was used to being inundated with constant lightwaves both visible and invisible, it had seemed like a suspicious _gap_.

The hole was big enough to hold those 80 kilograms of tricyanate, if they could find any _evidence_ of that, as well as two hideaway crewmembers, who were both lead out of security with slight limps. One of them had a bruise steadily forming on his cheekbone.

Souvenirs gained from going up against Data’s superior strength no doubt. The two men matched the description Data had given of the two guards he’d incapacitated during his attempted escape.

After that the investigation went a little more smoothly. When faced with Lieutenant Worf’s intimidating scowl, the two Zibalian guards became exceedingly cooperative. Using their DNA as a passcode, Geordi and his engineers were able to access quite a few of the ship’s logs, though, frustratingly, not all of them.

Having the freighter’s accounts on hand would probably be useful though, as well as it’s docking history. Geordi even had access to the ship’s rather small crew manifest. It listed Fajo as captain, _Varria Celo_ as the ship’s first mate, along with a pilot, a mechanic, and two bodyguards.

They’d probably need Kivas Fajo’s DNA to access the really incriminating files, but he doubted the man would be so generous.

But, with everything else well under the control of his engineers and a few science officers who had also boarded to take some chemical samples, it appeared that he was just about done there. And just in time too – according to his PADD’s chronometer it was already 10:52pm – almost time for Data’s party.

Data.

He wondered how the android was doing. He had tried to keep that eerily blank expression he’d seen on his friend’s face off of his mind while he worked, but now it came rushing back to him, along with that same sickly feeling in his stomach.

Now that the crisis was over, he regretted not going to check on him.

He gave a short farewell to his crew, who would be finishing up themselves in about an hour, and climbed onto the transporter pad once again. He called for a beam in, and closed his eyes uselessly against the light as he was transported back to the _Enterprise_.

He expected to see Data still working – and a part of him, which he was steadfastly ignoring, expected him to still be wearing that blank – _dead_ – expression he had seen on the android’s face right before he left.

What he hadn’t expected to see was Data standing in front of a young, cornered-looking Bolian blue-shirt, while holding a large tank-like structure with one hand – in which Geordi could faintly make out some odd creature he’d never seen before.

The Bolian ensign also had his hands on the tank, as if he was about to take it off of Data’s hands for him, but had been halted in his efforts by some unexpected obstacle – an obstacle which the ensign looked half-ready to flee from.

That obstacle being _Data –_ who was still talking. Animatedly.

“ _Laplings_ require approximately _3.7 ounces_ of nutrients _4 to 5_ times a day. Their diet is entirely _herbivorous_ , with a particular fondness for plants with _taproots_ such as: _beetroot, burdock, carrots_ -”

“A vegetarian… I-I understand, sir. I promise-”

“They are unable to digest fruits in the _Rutaceae_ family. This includes, but is not limited to the following: _citrons, grapefruits, lemons, limes, oranges, pomelos, tangelos, tangerines_ -”

“S-So… no citrus?”

“That is correct. All other fruits should be served dried, in order to simulate the conditions of _Lapis Prime_ , which has the climate I spoke of in my earlier points on room temperature.”

Geordi felt a grin tug at his face. _Same old Data_. Maybe he was worrying over nothing.

He couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for the poor ensign, though. He could tell from the look on the new officer’s face this one-sided conversation had being going on for a _while_ now.

“She also enjoys it if there is someone to sing to her-”

Geordi was just considering heading over there to distract Data (and give the ensign a free pass), but before he could make a move the doors to the Cargo Bay swished open…

“Mr. Data!”

And Commander Riker stepped in, already wearing his trademark grin.

“-while she is being fed.” Data finished quickly, finally handing the large tank over to the Bolian who had to hoist the thing with both arms before hastily wobbling away. The android then turned on his heel to address the Commander, who was already striding across the bay, “Yes, sir?”

“I just came by to make sure you weren’t skipping out on your party,” Riker said, coming to a stop by Data’s right side.

Resolving himself to the fact that Riker had come to actually _escort_ them to this party – and so it would be a while yet before he had a chance to talk to Data alone – Geordi walked over to stand a little ways off of Data’s left side.

“‘ _Skipping out’_ , sir?” The android asked, curiously.

“Like… ‘ _forgoing’_.” Geordi answered for the First Officer – it wasn’t a perfect definition, but it was a word Geordi knew Data understood, and a useful enough hint to help Data catch on.

 “Ah.” Data nodded, adding that piece of information to his understanding, and then, to Riker again, “Is there a reason I would not attend, sir?”

“None that I can think of,” Riker replied cheerfully, then gave a small nod toward the door, “Come on. Everyone should be there by now.”

* * *

Despite the fact that just a few hours earlier Geordi had been fretting over how uncompanionably silent their walk through the corridor was, he kind of wished there was a little less _companionability_ now.

The two humans had kept their relative positions on either side of Data, but the corridor was just slightly too small to accommodate all three of them while allowing for traffic in the other direction. Because of that, Geordi ended up having to maneuver himself slightly _behind_ Data’s left side, while Commander Riker strode confidently on the android’s right, talking, charmingly, of his plan to host a celebratory poker game at the party – which, naturally, Data found agreeable.

Geordi’s unspecified bitterness took a backseat, however, when they entered the turbolift and Data abruptly changed the subject,

“Commander, there is something that troubles me.”

“Oh?” The Commander asked, while Geordi called for ‘Deck 10’.

“I have investigated a total of 342 distinct exhibits seized as part of Mr. Fajo’s collection – 103 works of art, 97 ancient artifacts, 56 cut minerals, 49 instances of discontinued weaponry, 23 written works, and 14 disparate species-”

“Data-” Riker tried, unsuccessfully.

“-both living and preserved. Of those listed, however, 145 were not-”

“Stop, Data!” This time the First Officer did manage to disrupt Data’s speaking. Geordi felt an urge to remind the Commander ‘you _asked’_ , but he thought he _might_ actually get in trouble for that.

“I’ll go over your report and address all of your concerns in detail _tonight_ ,” Riker promised, his tone sliding seamlessly between XO and big brother with a grin, “Right _now_ , I want you to _relax_ and enjoy the _party_.”

“… I understand, sir.”

The turbolift doors slid open then almost as if on cue, and the three of them exited, walking again down the hall that lead to Deck 10’s recreational dining area.

Not even a few steps in, Data spoke up again, “Sir, I have a question -regarding- the party.”

From the sort of side-view Geordi had of the Commander, he could see him bite back a laugh, “ _Yes_ , Data?”

“Geordi was able to predict its occurrence tonight, while I was unable to do the same.” Data began. Riker glanced back at Geordi, but the engineer only shrugged. It had just seemed like something at least _one_ member of their odd little family would suggest – he’d bet it was either Wes or Will.

“I suspect my knowledge of party-contributing factors is lacking. Would you be able offer any insight as to the reasons for this particular party?” Data asked, staring at the Commander.

Riker stopped walking, causing their whole little group to stop short as well. They were just a couple of steps away from the entrance to Ten Forward now, but it looked like Riker was intent on giving a proper answer, “You’re back, and in one piece. That doesn’t sound worth celebrating to you?”

“Yes, sir. But I was only gone for _24 hours, 16 minutes, 32 seconds_.” Data explained. “I have been absent on away missions for longer periods of time. So have other crewmembers.”

“Yeah, Data, but we thought you were… gone.” Geordi spoke up, without even really meaning to. He still couldn’t say the word – ‘ _dead’_ – he still didn’t want to think about it. “I mean… _really_ gone.”

Data looked at him for a moment, then at Riker, “So you are celebrating the fact that I was not destroyed, as was previously thought.”

“You could say that,” Riker shrugged, smiling slightly, then moved toward the doors leading to Ten Forward.

“I also find that outcome preferable,” Data managed to add, right before the doors slid open and,

**_“Welcome back Mr. Data!”_ **

Data stopped in the doorway, surprised by the sudden chorus. Riker wasn’t kidding about _everyone_ being here. Of course the senior staff was, including the Captain – Wesley had also come for the party, and Guinan was standing comfortably in her space behind the bar – but quite a few Operations officers, and the Science and Conn officers that worked closely with them, were there as well. All of them here to celebrate Data’s return.

For a moment, Data seemed at a loss for how to respond. It occurred to Geordi that Data might not have had many parties thrown in his honor. Eventually, the android settled on a grateful nod, “Thank you.”

The crowd then shifted focus back unto itself, sipping their drinks or filling small plates with hors-d'oeuvres that had been laid out from the replicator. Interrupted conversations picked back up again, with a few officers calling out individual greetings to Data, which the android politely accepted.

“Don’t be so _stiff_ , Mr. Data.” Riker said, putting an arm around the android’s shoulders and gesturing toward the crowd with the other, “Everyone’s here to-”

The Commander stopped short, extracting himself hurriedly from Data.

“Excuse me a moment,” He said hurriedly, before making a beeline for the other end of the deck.

Data looked bewildered, but Geordi didn’t even feel like questioning the superior officer’s behavior. He didn’t care if Riker had spotted pretty ensign or a _gorn_ on the other side of this room – at least now he had a chance to slide up beside Data and ask, quietly, “You okay?”

“I am-” He began, but the answer was lost when an orange tabby, held by two dark, scratched-up hands, was thrust in their direction.

“Spot!” Data exclaimed, taking the feline gently into his arms.

Worf, whom the damaged hands belonged to, seemed eager to give her up. Geordi could guess why.

“Your animal is a fierce anhhh…” Worf tensed, and both Geordi and Data watched the Klingon struggle valiantly against an oncoming sneeze. For a moment, it seemed like the sensation had passed, and Worf was about to continue, when, “CHOO!”

The sound briefly drew the attention of everyone in the room, which the Klingon steadfastly ignored until conversation picked up yet again.

“… And admirable warrior,” Worf finished, with as much poise as he could muster.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Data replied, and Geordi could tell the android was truly grateful. The cat in his arms was purring contently.

Worf nodded respectfully, and then hastily took his leave.

“So you have been a -good cat-, Spot?” Data cooed at the furry bundle in his arms.

“I wouldn’t go _that_ far,” Geordi muttered a little bitterly, remembering the scratches on his own hands that he’d had to get treated in Sickbay.

The cat _owner_ , however, did not appear to have much sympathy for his poor hands when he looked over and said, flatly, “That was a rhetorical question, Geordi.”

“Sorry.” He _guessed_ he deserved that?

He looked down at Spot, who seemed ready to doze off any second now, and had to admit she was pretty cute… when she wasn’t trying to _murder_ someone.

“I guess that explains why Riker took off at warpspeed,” Geordi realized. When he and Wesley had reported trouble getting the cat out of Data’s room, Commander Riker had come down himself – all smugness – to help them out. Not 15 minutes later the First Officer had called for a Security team, which was how Worf had gotten the job as Spot-sitter. Riker had avoided any contact with the feline since.

Geordi smiled.

“Y’know, maybe we can get along after all kitty.” He reached out to scratch behind an orange ear, only to get a vicious hiss in return.

“Or maybe _not_.” _A cat in her house has the teeth of a lion._ Or so the saying goes.

After that the party seemed to reach a comfortable rhythm. The Captain had come by to welcome Data back again in person, return the Shakespeare collection, and present another literary collection, this one of poetry. Several of the other staff members had followed suit, returning all of Data’s items, and in some cases adding gifts to the pile. In the end, Chief O’Brien had to assure Data that he would _transport_ the large pile of items, a few spilling over the table, directly to the android’s quarters.

Wesley had also returned his bequeathed items without fuss – the medals still safely set in their case - but, seeing the opportunity, the teen insisted on hearing how Data got each one.

Geordi excused himself from his boyfriend’s side once the android began reciting _Stardates_. He was sure Wesley would keep him busy, (“I don’t want to hear the _report_ , Data, I want to hear the _story_.” “This was a real event, Wesley, not a story.”), while Geordi sought out someone he’d been meaning to talk to for a while.

“Uh, excuse me? Counselor?”

“Yes, Geordi?” Deanna Troi turned to look at him, her eyes calm and serene. She didn’t seem at all surprised that he was talking to her, and Geordi couldn’t help but wonder if it was because she read his mind.

But this wasn’t really the time to be nervous about that. He’d wanted to talk to her for a reason.

“Uh, look, I know it might not be my place to ask this…” He started, not even sure how he was going to say this without seeming like an overbearing jerk, “But, do you think you could talk to Data a bit? About what happened. I-”

He paused, trying to think of the right words. He didn’t really want to speculate about Data when he wasn’t part of the conversation. It felt… rude, almost. But, his worrying won out a little and he ended up saying, as vaguely as possible, “I think it really affected him.”

“You feel there’s something wrong?” The counselor asked, though when _she_ did it, it almost seemed like a statement of fact.

“ _No._ That’s-” He faltered. It was stupid to try to lie to her – it wasn’t like she couldn’t _tell_. Geordi hadn’t spent much time around the half-Betazoid, but even he knew that. He sighed, “It’s not that there’s something _wrong_ , exactly. But, it’s not like Data is going to have a big _breakdown_ over something in the first place, y’know?”

“Trauma doesn’t always manifest itself in a ‘big breakdown’,” She replied, patiently, “Many times it’s small changes, in thoughts or behavior.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I can tell what Data is _thinking_ ,” He said _without_ thinking. A rather blunt look from Deanna reminded him that she couldn’t tell what Data was thinking either. He tried again, “But, I _can_ tell there’s _something_ on his mind. I just think he needs someone to talk to about it.”

“Doesn’t he have you?”

Geordi sputtered.

“No – I mean, _yes_ , but – I’m not -” _What, not brave enough?_ Probably.

Eventually the psychologist took pity on him and continued,

“As ship’s counsellor it’s my job to care for the mental health of _all_ crewmembers, _including_ Data. Of course, I’ll speak with him,” she assured him, and Geordi sighed in relief. _Good._

“But, what about you, Geordi?”

Of course it was too much to hope that this was over. Geordi lifted his VISOR to look the counselor in the eyes – eyes he knew were supposed to be ‘black’, but to him were _bright_ and _deep_.

“What about me?” He asked cautiously.

“I know you and Data are… involved.” She began and Geordi winced a bit. It wasn’t like there was actually anybody left on the ship who _didn’t_ know he and Data were dating by now, but still, it felt _awkward_ talking about it like that. Deanna seemed to sense that and shift focus. “Yesterday we thought we lost Data. You must have mourned him. Now that he’s returned, how do you feel?”

“…Glad he’s back?” He said, unhelpfully. He knew he was being unhelpful – and from the look on Deanna’s face, _she_ knew he was being unhelpful. He frowned – it wasn’t like he was _expecting_ this to happen. He didn’t visit Dr. Troi’s office often, and very rarely needed her expertise. He generally liked to handle his own problems _personally_. The only reason he had decided to come to her _now_ was because Data _did_ sometimes utilize her counseling, and, since _Geordi_ didn’t know how to help his friend, he was just hoping she _would_.

But, in the spirit of fairness, he thought he should try to answer a little more honestly than that. After all, it wasn’t like she couldn’t _tell_ something was bothering him.

“ _I dunno_ …” He began, pointing his VISOR towards the ground and focusing on the underlying circuits below their feet, “Like I blew my first chance, and I’m pretty sure this _second_ chance isn’t gonna turn out much better?”

Okay, that was maybe _too_ honest – and possibly didn’t make any sense. How could he have already come to that conclusion less than 6 hours after Data returned? Sometimes it seemed like romance _in general_ was never going to work out for him. Four months in and this was already the longest romantic relationship he’d ever had. He couldn’t even _describe_ the _problem_ – it was just _him_.

Meanwhile, Deanna seemed to be picking up on some of that emotional static.

“Geordi, when we _lose_ someone, we are forced to look at that relationship in hindsight. _Sometimes_ we begin to form regrets over our actions or inactions during those relationships.” She said, her voice low and soothing. “When given a ‘second chance’ like this, those _regrets_ might begin to feel like a _barrier_ between the two of you.”

That… sounded pretty accurate actually.

“So… what do I do about it?”

“Well, you may be feeling a sense of _immediacy_ in this situation. Being reminded of our own mortality often makes us feel as if we are _running out of time_.” He nodded – hadn’t he just been thinking that? That life’s too short? “But, you have to remember you _do_ still have time. You don’t have to solve _every_ problem at once. You can _still_ develop this relationship at your own pace.”

And maybe that really _was_ something he needed to hear. He’d obsessed so much over all the things he hadn’t said to Data, what he’d been too insecure to say or do… that he felt _disappointed_ in himself now that Data was _back_ and he was _still_ too nervous to do any of the things he’d regretted not doing.

But, if he had _time_ – if it was something he could _work_ on, progressively… Well, it didn’t stop him from feeling disappointed, but he did feel… better.

“The important thing is that you communicate your feelings to _Data_ ,” She finished almost as if she was replying to his thoughts. She was looking at him with those deep eyes, all seriousness. “He won’t _understand_ if you don’t _tell_ him.”

She was right, of course. It was something he’d quickly adapted to with Data – something that actually made their interactions _easier_. Geordi didn’t have to _mince words_ with Data, he could just say what he meant and it was taken that way. As much as he maybe sometimes had to _define an idiom_ or _rephrase a sentence_ for him, communicating with Data – _talking_ with him, _listening_ to him – it all felt… comfortable.

That was how best friends were _supposed_ to be, right? How lovers were? It seemed right.

The engineer smiled, just a little unsteadily, “And here I thought I’d gotten _passed_ the ‘confess my feelings’ part of the relationship.”

“Oh, no, it’s _constant_ ,” The counselor laughed, also smiling – whatever she was sensing from him was obviously a good sign, “With Data, perhaps even _more_ so.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks.” He said gratefully – and then, because ‘thanks’ seemed so _inadequate_ in this circumstance, he added a little more emphatically, “ _Really_.”

Her smiled widened, her expression _knowing_ – and, oh right, _empath_ – but she seemed pleased as well.

“Any time.”

* * *

By the time Geordi returned to Data’s side, the counselor close behind, the subject of conversation had changed drastically. Data, Captain Picard, Worf and Riker were discussing their prisoner down in the Brig, while Wesley hung around the edges and tried to look like he was a part of the adult conversation.

“ _Kivas Fajo_ is a detestable _coward_ , _incapable_ of accepting his own defeat with dignity,” Worf was saying, “ _Death_ will be too _honorable_ a punishment.”

“Capital punishment has been outlawed in the Federation for centuries, Mr. Worf. You know that.” Riker chided from Worf’s right side. _Both_ the Security Chief and the Captain were between him and Data – _as well_ the small tabby napping happily in the android’s arms.

Geordi had to keep himself from smirking.

“They should make an _exception_ ,” Worf growled, viciously. Clearly Mr. Fajo had not made a good impression on the Security Officer.

Data who was watching this display of anger raptly, chose then to speak up, “To clarify, Lieutenant Worf: You wish -death- upon Mr. Fajo?”

“ _Yes!_ ” Worf answered immediately – and then seemed to realize what he just said and sputtered, “That’s-! I-!”

“Fascinating.” Data continued, his eyes never wavering from the Klingon’s, “Could you elaborate?”

“ _Data._ ” Counselor Troi’s voice was the first to speak up, her expression shocked, though it seemed everyone else in the group was uncomfortable with that line of questioning as well.

Except for Riker, who seemed to be staring at Data with a scrutinizing expression Geordi wasn’t sure he liked.

“Yes, counselor?” Data turned his head to address her, confused. Geordi knew that Data had just wanted to understand – displays of emotion often baffled the android, and he usually wanted to learn all he could about them. The only thing _odd_ , really, was the _intensity_ with which Data had asked.

It had seemed almost _urgent_.

“I am _certain_ Mr. Worf was only exaggerating, Data.” Captain Picard said, looking directly at a very dismayed Lieutenant Worf, “The events of the last two days have caused emotions to run high in all of us.”

“Emotions, sir?” Data repeated, looking almost… let down.

The Captain seemed to realize that he’d said something wrong, and so moved on quickly, sparing a quick glance at Wesley, who was almost as impressionable as Data was.

“ _Suffice it to say_ , we all want _justice_ for you and Ms. Varria,” He said, sagaciously, clearly trying to set a good example, “And we will do _everything_ in our power to ensure Mr. Fajo suffers just punishment for his crimes, _without_ compromising our own morals in the process.”

Data blinked. “Of course, sir.”

* * *

It was Riker, actually, who salvaged the situation, finally calling for that game of poker he’d wanted. Several crewmembers wanted in, and it didn’t take long for something like a mini-tournament to form. The Captain had quickly excused himself once the party began to seem like a _real party_ , and Riker wiped the floor with a good half of the room’s occupants before bowing out to go talk to Chief O’Brien about something back in the Transporter room. Everyone else filtered out slowly as the night wore on and people hazily admitted they had work in the morning.

Data’s pile of stuff was beamed out, as promised, and then Data himself bid everyone goodnight.

“Goin’ home, Data?” Geordi asked, jogging to catch up to the android as he made his way toward the turbolift.

“Yes. I need to drop off Spot,” Data explained, and then, “Geordi… Spot is not an object. Do you think-?”

Geordi had kind of expected this since that whole dispute over the medals. He didn’t even have to think about it, “Data, from what I’ve seen, that room is _Spot’s_ room. You’re just the most common visitor.”

It was maybe the most obvious mark of a cat owner that Data didn’t even argue the point. “I would not want to harm Spot in any way.”

The engineer huffed out a laugh, stepping into the turbolift, “I don’t think you’d ever want to harm _anybody_ , Data.”

“Geordi.”

He turned around at the unusually serious tone the android used, and realized that Data had stopped short of entering the lift.

Data was looking at him, eyes unblinking, and Geordi again felt that tenseness that he’d felt back in the corridor, when it seemed like Data was _just about_ to tell him something. Something important.

And then,

“Pardon me… Data?”

Geordi watched the android blink, slowly, and turn toward the voice that had just called out to him.

“Counselor?”

Deanna was standing about a meter away, and was looking between the two men with a somewhat concerned expression. She probably felt his anxiety skyrocket – though Geordi wished she could have gotten a read on Data as well. Maybe then he could figure out what was going on with his best friend.

“Do you have a moment to speak with me?” The counselor asked Data, and the android looked back at Geordi – questioningly.

Geordi wanted, desperately, to know what Data had been about to tell him, but he also didn’t want to get in the way of Deanna’s counselling. For all he knew, she might be the best person to hear it. So, feeling suddenly like his whole body was numb, he nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders.

“I’ve got to get going.” He lied, and then smiled hopefully, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Data?”

Data stared at him for a moment, and then nodded, taking him at his word.

“Of course, Geordi. Goodnight.”

“’Night,” he replied, then called for ‘Deck 12’. The turbolift doors slid shut.

* * *

“Loading is complete,” Data says as he enters the cockpit of the shuttlecraft, _Pike_.

Geordi isn’t sure if Data is talking to him, the _Enterprise_ , or just stating the fact in general, but he doesn’t feel like responding. Instead he watches Data settle into the pilot’s chair.

Geordi is at the conn himself – right now he could be doing any number of system checks in preparation for takeoff, but somehow he knows he won’t find anything wrong. Data could fly this thing by himself after all.

But, Data isn’t by himself. Geordi is sitting next to him, watching.

“I am proceeding with departure,” Data says, checking all systems himself. Observing protocol. It’s something Data’s good at. Geordi smiles at him, but Data’s not looking in his direction, too engrossed in the procedure.

It bothers him a little, that Data doesn’t look at him.

“ _Enterprise_ shuttlebay two: prepare for docking,” Data recites docking protocol like poetry, “Level one precautions for incoming material remain in effect.”

Precaution, because they’re carrying something dangerous. At the moment Geordi can’t recall what it is, but he knows the danger. If the containment field doesn’t hold –

He looks down at the conn, and sees he can monitor it from here. Everything’s stable. But, somehow Geordi feels like there’s still something wrong.

Outside the shuttle there are six people. The freighter’s owner, Kivas Fajo, is just out of sight, but Geordi knows he’s out there. A young man and woman are huddled together behind some crates. Two larger men are carrying boxes up a long ladder. A woman with long, thick hair stands in the back, staring at them.

He catches her eyes and suddenly he’s frozen. He can’t turn to look when he hears someone else approach. They come along the side of the shuttle, where Data is sitting. Geordi feels a growing sense of panic – he has to tell Data, but he can’t move. All he can do is stare into that woman’s cold, angry eyes.

“If you'll just acknowledge this last load, Commander.” The seventh person says.

Just then the woman blinks, and it’s like the spell is broken. Geordi whips his head around toward Data’s comforting lights and-

The shuttle explodes. He can feel it hit him, bright and hot and terrible.

Then it goes dark.

* * *

_“Data!”_ Geordi shouted, the darkness clinging to him as he threw himself roughly out of bed.

He was panicked beyond reason. He pushed himself to his hands and knees, still looking around frantically for some sign of Data –maybe he had survived?

It took him a few seconds of flailing for his brain to begin processing his other senses. The texture of the carpet under his hands, the dull hum vibrating through the _Enterprise_ , the smell of his room. The darkness slowly faded from the indescribable void that had taken his friend, to the familiar sort of darkness he was accustomed to. The result of being born with eyes incapable of perceiving light.

He sighed, shakily, and then carefully crawled back onto his sweat-soaked bed. He reached for his VISOR that was charging on his bedside table. He disconnected it from its external power source, then put it on, linking it up to the neural implants that sent the VISOR readings directly into his brain, along with that familiar sensation of something drilling into it.

In his mind, the room brightened. Everything the same as he’d left it when he’d gone to sleep.

“Computer, what time is it?”

The computer chirped, _“5:23 hours.”_

The engineer groaned, then lay back on his damp sheets.

What’s with that sort of dream now? Data was back – _alive_ – there wasn’t any need for stress-dreams like that.

He stared up at his ceiling, silently analyzing the metal used in its design. He should go back to sleep. He still had a few more hours before Alpha Shift and he could use the rest.

Or he could head down to Ten Forward for some early breakfast.

Or he could see if the holodeck was free – relax in some simulated scenery.

He could head into work early.

He sighed. _Or_ , he could go where he really wanted to go.

Ten minutes later he was dressed in his uniform and standing outside his boyfriend’s door, hesitantly ringing the chime.

He waited, expecting the android to answer – probably with some confused and concerned expression forming uncertainly on his face.

After a few seconds of nothing he rung the chime again, and called out, “Hey, Data, can I come in?”

Nothing.

“Data?” Geordi said, anxiety gripping him again. He took a breath – it was just the dream shaking him up. Data didn’t sleep after all, he was probably still _working_. Hypocritical as that was.

“Computer, where’s Commander Data?” He asked aloud, and listened to the computer chirp its acknowledgement.

_“Lieutenant Commander Data is not on the Enterprise.”_

Geordi felt like he’d been dipped in ice. His whole body flinched in on itself, and his insides went cold.

It couldn’t be. He’d seen Data come back. That hadn’t been – it couldn’t have been – a dream?

He tapped his commbadge. The line opened, directionless, and he hesitated, gathering his nerve.

“… L-La Forge to Data,” He stammered slightly, then held his breath.

Seconds felt like minutes.

Like hours.

Then,

“Data here.”

“ _Data_ ,” The breath of relief he took drained the energy from his bones, and he was fairly certain Data could hear it over the channel. He slumped forward, his VISOR clinking against the metal of Data’s door.

Data who was still alive. Was still with him.

“Yes, Geordi?” Data asked over the line, and Geordi realized this call was probably _really_ strange from the other side.

“Nothing! I-” He started, then remembered something and quickly shifted topics, “ _Where are you?_ ”

“I am aboard the _Jovis_.” Data said, calmly, as if that was at all a reasonable place to be. “I am attempting to access the blocked files.”

“I’ll be right there,” The engineer said, pushing away from the door and marching his way down the corridor toward the turbolift. He heard Data about to protest, but cut him off before he could start,

“ _La Forge out_.”

* * *

In the time took for Geordi to go from Deck 8 to Cargo Bay 2 to the _Jovis_ , his frantic anxiety had quickly given way to tired irritability. Why would Data be on the _Jovis_ , of all things, at _five in the morning_ , working on something Geordi had _already_ worked on?

It didn’t help that he seemed to be getting an additional headache on top of the near-constant migraine he experienced around his implants daily.

The transporter finished beaming his molecular pattern into existence on the freighter and he glanced around, trying to spot the android.

“Geordi?” Despite his agitation, hearing Data say his name still made the tension in his body loosen.

Data was standing in front of one of the computer terminals, hands poised over the controls, apparently having paused in his work when Geordi arrived.

“Hey, Data,” the engineer said, tiredly, while climbing off of the transporter pad.

Data stared at him, intently, “Should you not be in the middle of your third -Rapid Eye Movement- stage?”

And there it was. Data worrying about him. Nevermind that Data had been near the end of a full shift when he was kidnapped, had spent over 24 hours alone in a hostile environment, then immediately took on 4 more hours of work as well as however many hours he had probably put into working on _this_.

But, of course, _Geordi_ was the one _overworking_ himself when he so much as missed a REM cycle.

“I couldn’t sleep, _alright?”_ Geordi answered, more tersely than he intended, “You _don’t_ have to keep nagging me about it.”

Data blinked, “…‘ _Nagging’_?”

“It’s that _thing you do_ when you try to _look out_ for me and I _don’t_ wanna hear it,” He explained, irritated at himself for _sounding_ so irritated.

Data seemed to notice there was something off, because when he spoke next his tone was more conciliatory, “Is it not -customary- for those in a relationship to care about each other’s wellbeing?”

“Oh, it’s _customary_ all right,” Geordi started, looking straight into Data’s eyes.

And he _was_ right, _of course_ he was. Data did everything _by the book_. Geordi didn’t know why but right now that was _incredibly frustrating_.

Maybe it was because he didn’t _have_ whatever ‘book’ Data was using. Or _any_ book, for that matter. Geordi had no idea what he was doing. How was he supposed to _fix_ this? He wasn’t even entirely sure if there was something _broken_.

 “But, I still _don’t wanna hear it_ ,” He finished, and watched Data blink, consider what he said for a moment, then nod solemnly and return to his work.

Contact broken, Geordi reached his hands up to rub at the area around his temple not obstructed by his VISOR. He pushed his fingers into his skin and wished they would sink into his brain so he could massage the nerves there. While he was at it maybe he could search his brain for a better way to talk with his best friend. Maybe he could unclog whatever neural pathway was keeping him from being a better boyfriend.

He glanced over at Data, who seemed completely focused on his task, the android’s fingers blurs of light to Geordi’s sensors as he entered information into the system several times faster than any human could ever hope to.

For a moment Geordi just watched him, allowing his mind to rest on the familiar visual input. Data didn’t type like that very often. The first time Geordi had seen him do it had been the day they’d met on the _Enterprise_. Data hadn’t known the full range of Geordi’s VISOR at the time and had gotten clocked at 200 inputs-per-second on one of the operations’ terminals when he thought no one was watching.

Geordi had asked him about it once, to which Data replied that it was ‘distracting to others’. If he operated at his full speed, most people would be inclined to stare at him, which would decrease overall efficiency. Due to that, Data usually limited himself to relatively human-like speeds.

Geordi had told him then that though it may be surprising for a _little_ bit, people would _get over it_ , so he should type however he wanted to. The advice, taken or not, hadn’t appeared to change the android’s habits – except for the times when it was just the two of them… and Data typed faster.

He wished he could think of some way to ask Data to do the same with _everything_. He wished it didn’t sound so rude to his ears to just ask Data to stop trying to _imitate_ a ‘human romance’ and just make up his own. That it didn’t _matter_ if it was weird, he’d _get over it_.

But, how exactly was he supposed to tell his android best friend, who wanted to be _human_ more than anything, to _stop trying?_ He felt like a jerk even thinking it.

So, for now, he just had to be satisfied with faster typing.

“So… what are we working on?” The engineer said, coming up to stand directly beside Data so he could see the screen he was using.

“I am attempting to manually solve this systems’ deoxyribonucleic code.”

“You’re trying to _brute force_ it?” Geordi asked, bewildered, and when Data offered no correction, he continued, “Data there’s gotta be _almost_ as many DNA sequences as there is _life in the universe_.”

 _Almost_ ; except for any life like Data’s.

“It is functionally infinite,” Data agreed, not stopping.

“Even _you_ couldn’t crack that,” The engineer tried, and when Data seemed undeterred he placed a hand on Data’s arm, “Data, just wait ‘til tomorrow. The Federation’ll subpoena the blocked files and force Fajo’s cooperation. You _don’t_ have to do all this.”

Data looked over at him, curiously, though under Geordi’s hand he could still feel the android’s arm moving, tapping out inputs at an incredible speed, “Are you ‘ _nagging’_?”

“Oooo _ph_ ,” He groaned. The android’s tone was flat, but it was like getting socked in the gut. He supposed he deserved that.

He turned in place, sliding to the floor, his back against the terminal.

“ _Okay_ ,” he sighed partly in surrender, partly in apology, “Okay… I _woke up_ because I had... a nightmare.”

Above him he could hear Data still typing, but he noticed it wasn’t as ridiculously fast.

“I see,” Data said, and Geordi knew he was trying to sound sympathetic, but Data only knew what a nightmare was _in theory_. “What was it about?”

“You.”

The typing continued but Data was silent, waiting.

“It was what I _thought_ were your last moments, replayed back to me in my head. It was the same last night. _At the time_ , it helped me realize that you were not in control of the shuttle when it exploded,” Geordi explained, leaning his head back against the slightly warm metal of the computer, “ _Now_ , though, it’s just kind of _annoying_.”

“Geordi,” Data spoke up, his tone serious, though he was still steadily typing in DNA sequences, “Have you noticed something wrong with me?”

Geordi felt a sharp _jolt_ in his gut, and he immediately responded with, “ _Why?”_

“Your interactions with me have become more… ‘tense’?” Data struggled with the word, “I have concluded that you may be experiencing ‘concern’.”

_Concern?_

“Data, I thought you _died!_ ”

The typing abruptly stopped, and Geordi realized he had practically yelled that last word. Emotional outbursts like that really confused his friend, so he made an effort to calm down and speak clearly.

“I’m _in love with you_ and I thought you were _dead_ ,” He explained, this time his words much, much softer, “I’m _gonna_ be a little _fidgety_ about it for a while. _I can’t help it_.”

“But, I’ll-” He started to say ‘work on it’, or something to that effect, but the words died on his lips when he looked up and saw Data staring at him, motionless. “Data?”

“You thought I -died-?”

Data repeated back the phrase with the emphasis placed on ‘died’, and for the life of him Geordi couldn’t figure out what the android was asking, “I’m _pretty sure_ I’ve said that, Data.”

“You have said that you thought I was ‘gone’,” Data said, patiently, still staring at him.

“Oh,” He said simply, catching on quickly – if a bit late. The difference between Data being ‘dead’ and being ‘gone’ – _destroyed_. If he never equated those terms for him, how was Data to know what he was feeling? He hadn’t been _thinking_. “ _No_ , Data. It’s just… it’s hard to think about? But, to me, you were… dead.”

It’s honestly still hard to say. But, if he was going to say it, he might as well say it all.

“And it…” He continued, turning away from Data to point his VISOR toward the floor panels, “Kind of felt like my fault? I _know_ it doesn’t make sense. I just felt like I should have been able to stop it. That I should have _seen it coming_.”

There was silence for a moment, Data still standing above him. Then he heard the android begin typing again, and he sighed. Well, at least he got that off his chest.

Then the terminal shut down and Data turned, gracefully lowering himself down to sit beside him.

“‘Oh. Kay.’” Data said, and it took a second or so to realize Data was mimicking him.

“Okay?” Geordi asked cautiously, and Data glanced over at him.

“I believe I have been experiencing a similar phenomenon - a feedback loop between my processes for situation analysis and conditional reasoning.”

It wasn’t difficult for Geordi to translate that, “You keep thinking about what would have happened if you’d done things differently.”

“Precisely.” Data nodded, “Although upon reviewing my actions I found no logical error in reasoning, I have already devised 752 -alternative- actions I could have taken that may not have lead to Varria Celo’s death.”

Data glanced away then, staring at the opposing wall, frowning, “I cannot help but conclude that I was a factor in-”

“ _Hey_.” Geordi interrupted, not needing to hear any more to know where that train of thought was headed, “It’s not your fault. Kivas Fajo shot her, not you.”

He waited until Data nodded in agreement, still frowning, and then sighed and ran his fingers through his hair in agitation.

“But… I get it.”

Geordi could see Data look over at him again from the outer edge of his VISOR. The engineer just shrugged and smiled ruefully, “You obsessing over what could have been makes about as much sense as _my_ guilt. …But, _I get it_.”

Data seemed to accept that for what it was worth, and they both sat there together for a while, just quietly accepting one another’s company, each occupied with their own thoughts.

For Geordi, the time spent here felt more restful than any sleep he’d ever gotten, and after a while he felt something inside him that he hadn’t even realized was there, _relax_.

After about 30 minutes Geordi nudged Data in the side and asked him, slyly, “So, _doing anything later?_ ”

Geordi watched Data’s eyes shift from side to side in thought and was perfectly prepared to hear the android’s _entire itinerary_ for the day, but was not prepared to hear, “Counselor Troi suggested I visit Mr. Fajo while he is detained in our Brig.”

A beat, and then, “She _what_ now?”

“She believes that I may still be preoccupied with the events immediately prior to my rescue due to the fact that I was removed from the situation suddenly and with no opportunity to see its conclusion,” Data explained, “She predicts seeing Mr. Fajo detained may bring me ‘closure’. ”

 _Or_ , they could never see or hear from that guy again. That sounded like _closure_ to Geordi.

But, he supposed that was up to Data. Maybe he’d think so too.

“So… are you gonna do it?”

“Of course.”

 _Damn_.

Geordi looked away and tried very hard not to say something that would influence his friends decision. After all, there was a good chance the counselor was right, and if Data thought it was worth giving a try…

Geordi blinked behind his VISOR, and tried to mentally guess the time. It had to be around 6:20, at least.

“The _Enterprise_ is supposed to enter parking orbit at 7.” After which the case was being handed over to the Federation investigators and this sector’s prosecutor. “When are you gonna go?”

“6:59.”

“ _Ahh_.” Yeah, that sounded like more than enough time. Geordi smiled, “Would you like me to come with you?”

Data turned to him with an expression that told him he’d just asked a ridiculous question. “I always enjoy your company Geordi. Why would this case be any different?”

Geordi grinned and stood – a little more clumsily than he intended, but at least he didn’t fall over.

“Well, if that’s the case, and you’re finished with _that_ ,” He gestured toward the now-offline computer terminal. “Why don’t we get out of here and you can _enjoy my company_ someplace less _creepy_ for the next 35 minutes?”

He offered his hand.

Data glanced around the _Jovis’_ dark bridge for a moment, probably adding its image to his internal definition of ‘creepy’, then reached up and took the offered hand.

“Agreed.”

* * *

They ended up spending exactly 32 minutes hanging out on the holodeck in an excellent recreation of a beach in Mogadishu that Geordi used to go to as a kid, while Data talked non-stop about the significance of sea-ports in early human civilization.

Overall, it was a nice break from everything that had been going on, and as 7 o’clock drew near, Geordi hoped that Data would forgo the visit to the Brig and stay here with him for the next hour until Alpha Shift rolled around, talking about the ancient ships that roamed Earth seas.

But, when Data made a decision to do something, he did it, and at 5:57am they left the holodeck and headed down to Deck 33.

The walk was as eerily silent as it had been when he’d followed Data to his quarters yesterday. Geordi got the same feeling that Data had something important on his mind that he was keeping to himself. But, Geordi supposed he had some things on his mind right now too. Like how he was finally going to be meeting this _Kivas Fajo_ , and he really wasn’t sure if he was prepared for it.

When they entered at exactly 5:59am, Data went first, marching straight into the room to stand directly before the cell that held Fajo.

Geordi meanwhile hung back, giving Data his space to do whatever it was he needed to do. He stood beside the Brig officer controlling the forcefields and watched.

From this angle, Kivas Fajo seemed… smaller than he expected.

“Oh!” Fajo exclaimed, upon seeing Data, his tone derisive. He moved restlessly around the small cell,  “Have you come to see me… repent? Is this your _final satisfaction?_ Want to see me beg for mercy?”

He scoffed, sitting on the edge of his cot. “You're not going to get any of that from me.”

Meanwhile, Data was watching, motionless. Observing him. “I expected nothing.”

At that Fajo started to laugh, a low, rueful chuckle. “Our roles are… reversed. Aren't they, Data?”

He stood again, and walked the short distance to the energy field keeping him in, still laughing in that humorless way, “You're the _collector_ now. Me? I'm in a _cage_.”

He suddenly shot out his arm, a quick, violent motion, like a punch, toward Data’s face – only for his hand to be deflected by the force-field.

Data hadn’t flinched. When the android spoke this time it was in an even flatter tone.

“So it seems.”

“Just don't count me out too _quickly_.” Fajo warned, his words more confident than he seemed to be, “I had you in my collection _once_ ; I can have you there again.”

He began to turn away but then Data spoke again.

“Unlikely, sir.”

Fajo paused and glanced back, another mocking chuckle leaving his lips, before he made to walk back to his cot again.

But Data wasn’t finished, “Your collection has been confiscated.”

Fajo froze, slowly turning around to face Data once again as the android continued, tone completely even, “All of your stolen possessions are being returned to their rightful owners. You have lost everything you value.”

Fajo sneered at him, “It must give you _great_ pleasure.”

“No, sir. It does not.” Data said, as if stating a fact, “I do not feel pleasure. I am only an android.”

Something in Data’s tone made Geordi’s gut twist, but he couldn’t explain why. It sounded like Data – though with less of the flavorful variation Data often tried in his usual speech – but it also sounded so… _cold_.

If Geordi didn’t know any better he might even say _spiteful_.

Then, after exactly one minute and ten seconds, Data turned and walked away.

He had just made it over to him when the Brig’s door swished open, admitting a group of four. One of them, another Zibalian, was already snapping orders.

“I want my client released _immediately_.”

“Oh, _Goly_ ,” Fajo cooed from his cell, before his tone shifted abruptly to bitterness, “ _It’s about time_.”

‘Goly’ didn’t react to the tone, only turning around to snap at Riker, who was also part of the group, “You had _no right_ to keep him here. I’ll be filing an injunction.”

“We had _every_ right to hold him,” Riker shot back, loudly, every bit the Commander, “He _imprisoned_ one of our officers.”

“Allegedly.” Fajo piped up, boredly, as the force-field was dropped and he was lead out by the third person in the group, who appeared to be a Federation penal officer.

‘Goly’ – apparently Fajo’s lawyer – was looking smugly between Riker and the fourth person from the group, “You don’t have a case and you know it.”

Riker looked like it was taking every ounce of his self-control not to punch him, but the fourth member of the group didn’t look fazed in the slightest. She produced two folders, one after the other, “Warrant. Subpoena.”

“Oh, you’re _really_ trying this? _Wonderful!_ ” The lawyer crowed facetiously, a tone that reminded Geordi too much of Fajo himself. “I’ll see you in court. Come on, Kivas.”

The fourth person nodded and gestured for the guard to lead Fajo out of the Brig, but before they made it to the door Fajo paused and looked over at Data.

“Looks like… I’ll be seeing you again soon, Data,” He managed to say, before Riker got between them, and apparently whatever expression was on the First Officer’s face was enough to hurry Fajo out the door. With their single prisoner gone, the _Enterprise_ security officers assigned to the Brig left as well.

Then it was just Riker left, still staring at the door in disgust.

Data, meanwhile, had watched the entire encounter with absolutely _no_ expression. It was a little unnerving, until Geordi remembered that every expression Data made was intentional – _crafted_ so that people felt more comfortable around him and had an easier time interpreting his words. It made sense that Data would have no desire to make _any_ interaction he had with Kivas Fajo comfortable for the man.

But, that didn’t make Geordi any less worried.

“Hey, Data? Are you okay?” He nudged his friend in the side and when Data nodded, he asked, “What did he mean by that?”

It was Riker who answered, his tone inscrutable, “We don’t have enough physical evidence to make a case against Kivas Fajo.”

Geordi’s eyes flew open behind his VISOR, shocked – _horrified_ , but Data didn’t seem to react at all. It was almost like he _knew_. Suddenly, Geordi wondered if there wasn’t a _reason_ Data had spent all night manually typing in DNA sequences, trying to get a match. Trying to find something _substantial_.

Riker spared a glance back at Data, his eyes searching. Data stared back, unblinking, until eventually the First Officer nodded, solemnly, and walked out, headed after the group that had just departed.

Then the door slid shut and they were alone.

“Data?” Geordi ventured, trying to catch his friend’s eye.

After a moment Data turned to look at him, his face finally taking on one of the carefully-crafted expressions the android worked so hard on. This one looked a little like – ‘resolve’.

“I will have to testify.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's clear where this is going. This fic is going to go over quite a few things I wished they'd gone into in the series, and hopefully I'll do it justice, pun not intended. This chapter was much longer than I expected, so I don't expect the other chapters to be quite this long - but I do expect to add at least 2 or 3 more chapters to this. Thank you everyone who reviewed (and all the kudos too)!! I typed over 11K words in 2 weeks because of you guys, you're the best! I'm really glad there are people who like this ship and like the way I write them.


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